


home (is whenever i'm with you)

by nightquills



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: ATFG Exchange, Domestic, Fluff, M/M, Post-Canon, Soft boys being soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-14 01:39:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12997047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightquills/pseuds/nightquills
Summary: It’s been weeks since he saw Andrew last, and Neil can’t wait to finally see him in person, have him near, hear his voice without the tinny echo of a phone call between them.





	home (is whenever i'm with you)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [apear55](https://archiveofourown.org/users/apear55/gifts).



> For [aasimarr](http://aasimarr.tumblr.com/) (aka apear55 here on AO3) for the [aftgexchange](http://aftgexchange.tumblr.com/)! Happy holidays, and I hope that you like it!
> 
> Title is from ["Home" by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4306i99LMXo).

Neil is sitting in the car in the cell phone lot of the airport, refreshing and refreshing the page for Andrew’s flight on his phone. The illumination of his phone casts light over his face, revealing the inside of the car far more completely than the weak lamp a couple parking spots over. Rationally Neil knows that this won’t make the plane land any faster, but he can’t seem to help himself. It’s been weeks since he saw Andrew last, and he can’t wait to finally see him in person, have him near, hear his voice without the tinny echo of a phone call between them.

He taps along to the song on the radio with the hand he has on the steering wheel, the other hand still devoted to his pointless refreshing. It’s quite some time before the status of the flight changes to landed—long enough that the radio has cycled through far too many of whatever top hits are on repeat this month—but after that it takes just a minute to get a text from Andrew saying what carousel his luggage is in. Neil smiles, puts the car out of park and starts making his way to the terminal; he’s been in and out of this airport more than enough to know which exit will be closest to the number Andrew texted him.

It takes him a couple minutes to curve around to the terminal—Andrew’s flight has come in amidst a slew of other late night flights, and the traffic shows it. Neil manages to grab a parking spot just a few meters down from the door, and then he’s free to cast his eyes towards the exit and wait for that familiar crop of blonde hair to show itself.

It isn’t long until Neil catches sight of Andrew making his way through the doors, a tense set to his shoulders that Neil has trained himself to notice. He sees the moment that Andrew spots the car by the way his shoulders relax just slightly, the way he moves with purpose to meet Neil.

It’s so good to see Andrew again after weeks of being apart; Neil is content to simply let his eyes run over Andrew’s form, taking in the slight changes to him from their time apart. Andrew’s hair is longer, now—Neil knows that a haircut must not be far off, because Andrew doesn’t like it when it’s long enough to annoy him by brushing against his neck.

Neil doesn’t bother to get out of the car. He knows that Andrew isn’t a fan of PDA, for one thing, but he’s also familiar enough with Andrew and planes to know that Andrew is probably too stressed at the moment for any more physical contact than what he had trying to shove his way through the airport. Instead, he presses the button to open the back of the car so that Andrew won’t have to.

Andrew pitches his duffel bag into the trunk before getting into the passenger side of the car, dropping into seat with a huff. He promptly accuses Neil of “Staring” and leans forward to change the radio station.

Neil doesn’t even try to stop the smile he can feel curling on his lips, but he obediently looks away to begin the task of driving them back home. He tells Andrew about his day as they make their way away from the airport, more than happy to just be around Andrew and hear the deadpan one-liners he drops when he thinks that Neil or his teammates were being stupid.

It isn’t that long before they reach Neil’s apartment—it’s past rush hour, so traffic isn’t as terrible it normally is.

(Neil is glad that traffic is now one of his biggest day to day concerns. His worries are more mundane nowadays than he ever thought to hope for, his life better than even his wildest dreams while he was on the run. And now that Andrew is by his side again—even though it’s only for the long weekend—it’s even better.)

From there, the two of them make their way to the elevator, taking it up to the 13th floor. Neil unlocks the door and pushes it open for Andrew to make his way through, duffle in hand, before letting himself in and shutting and locking the door behind him.

He walks further into the apartment to see that Andrew has discovered the cinnabons sitting on the counter that Neil had picked up for him on his way back from practice. He’s impaled one of the pecan ones on a fork, seemingly to transfer it to a plate, when he looks up to face Neil.  “Have you gotten a new addiction while I was away, junkie? I thought your vice of choice was stickball, not sugar.”

“Nothing’s changed—they’re not for me. If you want some ice cream to go along with that one,” he tilts his head towards the pastry dangling from Andrew’s fork, “there are a couple fresh pints for you in the freezer.”

“Oh, if Kevin were here he might just die,” Andrew says as he drops the cinnamon roll on a plate and sticks it in the microwave.

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

“Who said I wouldn’t like to hurt him? If he has an aneurysm, at least he won’t be my problem anymore. In fact, that’s a great idea. I’ll send him a picture right now.”

Neil laughs for a moment, clear and bright, at the thought of Kevin’s face at receiving a photo like that. But he knows that Kevin will try to include Neil in his reprimands, try to convince Neil to do something about Andrew’s diet. It’s a battle Neil doesn’t want to fight, however, and one he knows to be more than pointless. Trying to convince Andrew to give up sweets would probably be a good way to make him switch to a diet consisting solely of sugar just out of spite.

(And plus, Neil he has so little time together with Andrew that he doesn’t feel like letting Kevin try to distract either of them.)

Instead of saying that, however, he instead says, “It would be awfully inconvenient to have to fly out for the funeral, though.”

Andrew shrugs. “The momentary discomfort would be worth the lifelong payoff.”

“Maybe some other time. If you don't pull out your cinnamon roll soon, it’s going to be too hot.”

Andrew rolls his eyes but grabs it from the microwave and leads the way to the balcony connected to Neil’s living room, opening the door one-handed and sitting himself down on the bench that looks out over the city.

Neil follows after, sliding the door most of the way shut. He sits next to Andrew on the bench, leaving a slight distance between them but close enough that he can feel the warmth radiating from Andrew’s form. It takes Neil back to their years at Palmetto and their near-nightly ritual of sitting on the roof together, carving out time alone with each other away from the rest of the team when they could.

All they’re missing is the smell of cigarettes in the air, and Neil is sure that’ll be the next thing Andrew wants once he’s done eating.

Sure enough, Andrew makes short work out of the pastry, soon leaning to the side to set the plate on the floor. Then he’s digging in his back pocket for his pack of cigarettes, opening it and pulling out the lighter inside before shaking out two. He lights them both with a deft flick of his fingers, holding one out to Neil and raising the other to his lips.

Neil takes it gently from Andrew, but he doesn’t raise his own to his mouth. He instead lets the cigarette dangle from his fingers, content to simply breathe in the smell and let it soak into his hair, his clothes. (He still hasn’t taken off his jacket yet, so he knows that the smell of Andrew’s favorite brand—the smell of Andrew—will stick with him for weeks after the other man has to leave again.)

“Andrew, can I lean on your shoulder? Yes or no?” Neil asks, just wanting to be closer, closer, for as long as he can.

“Yes,” Andrew says after a moment. He’s tense for the first few moments after Neil scoots closer and leans his head on his shoulder, but he soon relaxes and even leans his own head to rest against Neil’s.

They stay that way for a long while, long after the cherries of both of their cigarettes have died out into darkness. Neil focuses on the feel of Andrew’s muscled arm beneath his cheek and the brush of Andrew’s hair against his skin, the smell of stale air from the plane and a faint trace of the cheap shampoo that Andrew continues to buy even though he can definitely afford better now. He trains his eyes on Andrew’s profile, trying to recommit every feature of his face to memory: the faint freckles over the bridge of his nose, the cut of his jaw, the dark and beautiful brown of his eyes. He doesn’t have Andrew’s perfect photographic memory to fall back upon, so practice—and repetition—makes perfect.

“Staring,” Andrew says again when he notices Neil’s gaze. He doesn’t tell Neil to stop or push his face away, though, and there are moments when Neil catches him staring right back, so Neil figures he’s fine to continue.

Soon enough, Andrew catches Neil in a yawn and scoffs, pushing the redhead away so that he can grab his plate and get up. “Come on, Neil,” he says, heading inside.

Neil does. He watches Andrew place his plate in the sink and follows after him when he walks into the bedroom—their bedroom. Andrew stops in the doorway, looking at the bed and saying, “The fuck, Neil?”

Neil looks in the direction of Andrew’s gaze and remembers. _Oh_.

He’d tried to clean up before Andrew’s arrival, and that included changing the sheets. But Neil is still not used to the size of the bed, and he’s never been that good with housework. The result is that he was unable to get the fitted sheet on the bed properly—one corner just wouldn’t stretch far enough to fit, and Neil had given up.

“What happened here?” Andrew questions.

“The sheets didn’t want to play nice earlier.”

“And what, you weren’t able to trash talk them into submission? That normally works so well for you.”  
  
“Not this time, it seems,” Neil says with a sigh.

Andrew turns away but Neil catches the slight quirk of his lips just before he does so. ”Useless,” he says. “Why do I keep you around again?”

“Beats me,” Neil says, a smile tugging at his own lips.

Together Andrew and Neil fix the bed until the sheets are on properly, even tucked under the mattress like they’re supposed to be. Neil normally doesn’t bother with that part.

Then both of them are changing into their pajamas, discarding the knives from their armbands on the bedside tables and heading to the bathroom together to brush their teeth. Neil almost laughs at the way the toothpaste pools at the corners of Andrew’s mouth, making his normally severe expression nothing short of comical. He gets a glare for his efforts, which only makes him want to laugh even more.

“Yes or no?” Andrew asks when they’re standing over the end of the bed again.

“Yes. Of course yes,” Neil says, stepping just slightly closer. Andrew closes the rest of the distance between them and pulls Neil down, sliding their lips together in a slow kiss, heated but free of consuming need or a desire to go further—not tonight.

Tonight is for languid kisses, a reacquainting of their mouths and reaccustoming of their bodies to casual physical contact.

They slip under the clean smelling sheets together, close but not touching except for a gentle press of their hands in the space between their bodies—easy enough for either of them to pull away from if they wanted to, but neither of them does.

Neil is so happy to be near Andrew, to look across the bed and see him there. It feels warmer with him there in it—it feels like home.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I did my best to make the boys soft with each other without making them too out of character—I hope I did alright with that lol
> 
> If you feel like yelling about Andreil together, please hop on over to [my tumblr](http://nightquills.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
